


Monster

by cyberpunkjinx



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Human Experimentation, I dont know how to tag, Unethical Experimentation, eye gore, gore ( a bit), i cant spell, laboratory experimentation, mind control (sort of), so i will guess, sort of dissassociation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:20:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24883720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyberpunkjinx/pseuds/cyberpunkjinx
Kudos: 6





	Monster

The table is cold. 

The entire room was cold, really. Sterile and well-ventilated, to prevent the ‘surgeons’ (he uses that word very liberally) from suffocating in the unrelenting aridness of the air in this dimension. He couldn’t move, couldn’t see, but could feel. Swimming through the foggy haze in his mind, he desperately tried to recall how he had ended up in this situation. But it would be OK, right? His friends would come for him, they would save him, they would-

He was ripped from his thoughts by a scalpel digging into his skin, a scream ripping through his mind but not managing to make it past his lips. The blade glides downwards, cutting through his flesh like a knife through butter. Warm blood trickles across his chest and down his shoulders, pooling beneath him as they hack and slash away at his chest. He feels something enter his chest, something that shouldn’t be there. Warmth spreads through his veins, down his limbs to his fingertips and toes. But it's not a pleasant warmth. It's burning, like the stifling heat of the Deep Nether, choking him crushing his lungs as magic that isn't supposed to be there rips through his body, merciless and suffocating.

The table is still cold. 

~~He’s~~ It’s awake now.

It can’t think. It can’t speak. It blinks slowly, looking at its surroundings. It is a hospital ward of some sort, but this is not a place where people go to recover. It looks down at its new, razor-sharp claws, a sickly neon green colour against the dark purple of its fingers. A ‘nurse’ comes in, over to its bedside. She looks at it, looks it in the eyes with disgusted wonder p͓͡l̖̜͕e̪̹a̲̣͖͍̖s͓ḛ͕̠̞̼̞̹͜ş̮͕͕̖t̠̠̞͖̙̲͈o̱̟p̷͍̘̳̦ͅo͎̥͉̺̟̫͉ḫ̩̯̗̪m̬̯͎͎͖͔̻͞y҉̞̙g͉͖͜o̢̮͓̳͉͎d̯̺̬͍̪s̹t̬͕̮̥͟o̱̳̹̫̱͞p̮̘̯n̡̰̫̹o̤̜͉̪n̳͇̥͖̜͚ͅO̖̳̙Ṉ̘͜O̤̗̦̮̮N͡O͔̞̟͇N̖͔̼̼̮̫ͅO͓̤̣̗̥̻͜ͅN̤̮͕̫͓͉OS͇͇̩T̤̯̱O̙͖̞̰͈̙͔P̛̳̘̲̳I͍̰͖̼̪T-

She is no longer looking it in the eyes. Because her eyes are now on the other side of the room. The claws look much nicer painted red. She is on her knees, she is screaming, other ‘doctors’ come in to restrain it and help her to her feet, but it doesn’t care. 

She was no longer looking it in the eyes.

Its limbs felt wrong. Its body felt wrong. It wasn't supposed to look like this, was it? It was supposed to have pale skin, green hair, brown eyes, wasn't it? i̥͠m͖̠͓s̫̟̘̬̗t̼̫͕il̳̗̬͙̠l̦͉̺̻̳h̻̤͕̤̞̠͝e͙̰̖̖̩͔̕r̵̰̰̤̦̗̲̥e̩̳̼͔͖p̯̹l̦͖̩͓̼e̴̖̬aş͖͉e̯̮̟̞̞̦p̱͙̤̩̲͖̞l̸̲e͚as̻̪͔̼̞̫͘e͚̩͎͓̘̱͠l͍͖̯̭͉̮̟e͉͖̤͚̟̯͕̕tm̜̤̟̞e̪͈͕o͇͈̼u͏͓̣̖̫̬͇̣t̲͓͍. Its tongue felt heavy and out of place in its mouth, trying to form words that weren't there. It looked around the room, finding itself unable to move due to the ties around its wrists and ankles, restraining it to the bed. The ward was mostly empty now, except for a few pale and sickly-looking subjects, evidently products of another faulty gene replacement or mob organ transplant. At the head of the room, there was a large viewing window, behind which sat a couple of 'nurses' and 'doctors'. They looked over at it nervously, averting their gaze when its head lazily turned to the side to try and get a bearing of its surroundings. It tried to speak, multiple times in fact, but to no avail. All concepts of words and language were simply fast-fading memories, being overtaken with the static it had grown accustomed to within its mind. Eventually, it was relocated to a cold obsidian cell, the dark purple of every surface making it seem much smaller and cramped than it actually was. It had a few blocks of grass to keep it company, the vibrant green slowly dying into a deathly beige.

A few weeks pass. It may have been a few years, it can’t tell. Day in, day out, the same routine. It can’t sleep anymore. It feels exhausted, it craves the release of unconsciousness, but at the same time adrenaline constantly courses through its veins and forces it to stay awake yet another day. It would think, if it could. w͍̮͎̤h̛̯̣̣ͅy̗̱̫̠̟̖̫͝c̲a͙͔͈͇̤̩̼ņ̗̤͚̟͎ț̦̪i̖̦s̟p̣̥͈̹͞e̮͔ak͎̘̠͔̥̠͈͞w̡͚̜̝̫h͇͙̝̥͟yc̨̥͚̜̘̥͈a͇̹̪͡nt͏̟͓͇̦ḭt̳̰h͈̺̼͚͓̼̜i̖̹̞̟̙̟ͅn̤̫͍k҉̮̻̠̞̼̫͎p̳̦̤̺̹̹̳l̻ȩ͚̻͎̥͚̯͎a̱̳͟s̵͚e҉̜̖̖̪̮ͅP͎̜͎̘̹̣L̼̤E͝Ạ̼͈͜S͙̱̮͇̗̹͕E̞̟͍̭ It would think about the life it missed. The friends it had left behind in the overworld. It would think about the pranks and the tricks that they would play on each other, their laughter now just an echo bouncing in the walls of its mind. But it can’t think, can it? Can it? Everything is a blur within its mind. Fleeting images of the life it lost do not fade from memory but yet do not come closer to consciousness. It picks up another block and places it down. The menial task being the only thing to keep it occupied within the small obsidian cell. Another researcher enters. Was it that time already? They set down their clipboard, tossing a chorus fruit at its feet with little regard. It picked it up, retreating to the corner of the room and wolfing it down like a feral animal. Hearing a loud sigh, it paused in its movements, clicking loudly to locate the person without having to look at them.

"Are you even still in there?" The researcher asked, but it didn't understand. The words became jumbled and garbled within its mind, not translating to anything intelligible. p̻̪̝ͪ̍͒͋͗̀l͔̻̱̝ͬe͓͍̥̱̦͓̓ͪa͈̝̥͓͛͊̈̽̔̏ͣs̸͓̭̮͍͚̳̖ͬͧ͗̅ͦͭ̄e҉͖̺͙p͓̮̣͍̮̒̌̋ͦͭl̯͖̻̬ͭͤ̀̿ͤ̉ḙ̜̜͉͎͇̼̋̂ͪͫa̤̘̠͙̲̰̯̓s̤̋̔é̷͓̱̙̪̳̫̔P̴̊L̞̝͖̼͎̼̹ͤ̆̏̏͂̅̓Eͭͥͨ̓̚͞A͈̥̪̠̝͔ͣ͆E҉ͅL͖̩͓̀͋̐͡Ẽ̢̩T͚̣̻̖̗M̽̃͛͏͙Ȇ̵̞̫̯̳͕̜͎͊̉̈̉Ȯ̴̀ͧ́ͫ͛ͯṶT̥̮̖̠̻ͥ͠ͅI̒ͮͩM̲͖͉͚̥̭̟̾ͮͤͩͥͤͥS̥̭̲͔̘͙̻͂̂T̸̻̗̿̊I̸̖͕L̴̬̝̮͙̳͛̄L̨̞͙͈̥ͅH̨̏̑ͣ͐ͬ́E̷̟̭ͬ͌͛ͬ̓R̥̱̰̦͚̔́ͧ͌̋̈E̓̀͆̍. They sighed again. "Surely you must be. You haven't teleported away, you know where you are. You know we can fix you." When it didn't respond, or even make a motion to acknowledge what was being said, they growled in frustration. "I hope for your sake you remember yourself. They're going to classify you as a failure if you don't come around soon. You'll be thrown out for the dragons." They turned to pick up their clipboard, but froze in place upon hearing the familiar _'vwoop'_ of an enderman. Slowly turning around, their gaze darted to the floor as the subject stood tall over them, eyes glowing vividly in the low light of the cell. 

"ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ|| ᓭᒷᒷ ᒲᒷ... ⎓╎リ↸ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷᒲ ⎓𝙹∷ ᒲᒷ" A garbled mix of clicks, gurgles and hisses came from the not-quite enderman, before it immediately retreated back to the corner as if nothing had happened, picking up the core of the chorus fruit and nibbling on it.

Now startled, the researcher made a couple notes on his clipboard, eyeing the creature curiously. It vaguely acted like a normal enderman, showing not a shred of human nature within it's mind, however it just seemed... off, in more ways than one. It's eyes and claws were a sickly neon green, its limbs were slightly too short and the ender particles around it were a bit too artificial. 

"Well, good luck." They said, picking up their clipboard and leaving through the reinforced iron door at the foot of the cell. It was alone again.

It couldn’t remember. It couldn’t remember anything.  
Could it?  
Could it?  
C̜̗̜̠͇͆ͪͦ̒͛͌́͟ö̠̹̰̺̤̭͓̉u̷̴͙̭̮͖̭͕͛̽̎̂͆̌l̵̤̺͇̫̔̚d̶̪̟̘͕͉̔̉̄͠ ͙̞̠̟̗͗̈̑ͦ̈͊ͬ͠i̳̩ͣ̈́ͮ̂̚ţ̵͍͔̺̘̻̻̥͚̱͑ͦ̽͝?̵̢͙̰͎̈́̈̍͂̐̾  
.  
.  
.  
It’s awake n̫ͨ͌̋ͣo͐̋w̙͍̾ͪ  
.


End file.
